


The Black Albatross

by paperballoon



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, References to Depression, Sexual Content, Violence, also, and cotton candy, kind of, seaside towns and bookshops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8218453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperballoon/pseuds/paperballoon
Summary: ‘It’s not a bat, can’t you see?’ Slaine’s throat burns to say, then. ‘It’s a black albatross, it’s the most legendary of all birds, Kaizuka-kun! It has a wingspan larger than our heights combined, can you imagine? And it’s disastrous to harm or kill an albatross...people who harmed them were punished from fate, they were severely punished for it.’He wants to speak. He doesn’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags!
> 
> I had to stay awake during a long, long journey so I decided to write in order not to fall asleep…before I knew it, I had this one-shot. Blame my mood for the first half of this fic, hope it gets better in the second half. decided to post this...even if it’s just a spontaneous experiment with my writing and Slaine’s POV... Please forgive any mistakes.

 

_Part one_

_The black albatross_

_*_

Slaine is alone.

In the afternoons, he leans his head on the cold window glass and watches from the empty classroom the last moments of every sunset. He always believes that the weak, orange light will last longer, until it disappears behind the horizon, extinguished, drowning him in darkness.

Inaho is far, unapproachable.

Always surrounded by friends, by family, by the teachers’ pleased smiles for a work perfectly done. And Slaine is left feeding from all of it, all of this never-ending love, like a starved boy picking the remains of Inaho’s feasts from filthy floors. His mother left home, years ago. His father is gone. The desire for freedom, the desire that accompanies him every time he turns his head and lets his gaze wander out of the school windows, is unbearable.

No one cares.

And Inaho reminds him of everything he could have in his life; everything he has irrevocably lost in his life. His violent emotions for Inaho, alone, make him endure the pain—the kind of pain that comes with the cane landing on his cheek, his ribs, his back, the kind of pain that arises from him gritting his teeth, trying to swallow his voice in endurance, in defiance.

*

Slaine watches from over his book as Asseylum giggles while Inaho, in his new white eyepatch, shows her something on his tablet. The class is in a five-minute break. Saazbaum-sensei arrives soon, however, so everyone sits down. His frigid classmate walks past his desk. Inaho’s expression remains blank, empty, abnormally devoid of emotions—his uncovered eye falls on Slaine, and Slaine treats Inaho like a tiger deals with an invader to its area: his eyes become slits, his gaze full of murderous, fake animosity—

 

—because Inaho found Slaine in their empty classroom, a few days ago. Slaine had escaped there after school, drawing birds with his finger on the dusty windows, picturing them flying freely across the blue skies. At times like these, he was like a king ruling over his secret, colorful world. The light of a setting sun was seeping inside the room, forming shadows on the floor. Slaine raised his head and saw Inaho, and falsely deemed that the younger boy wasn’t a threat…until Inaho stood next to him, a strong grip on Slaine’s arm, and lifted Slaine’s long sleeve, exposing the ugly evidences of pain—and just looked at him, simply _looked_ at him with those eyes like dark burgundy wine, the kind that tingles your throat and makes you lightheaded, and Slaine wanted to unleash everything, to scream as loudly as he could, because Inaho’s hand was suddenly on his own then, Inaho’s fingers were warm and gentle, full of wonderful promises—Slaine jumped as if Inaho electrocuted him.

His punch on Inaho’s eye hurt his own knuckles. Inaho fell on the floor with a hand covering his bleeding eye socket, grimacing in pain—Slaine froze, then ran out of class, out of the school, far away from everything, back to the shadows of the empty playground near his home.

 

 

— but Inaho’s eye is still solely focused on him. Saazbaum-sensei urges everyone to sit down. Slaine snaps his head away and lowers his gaze, ashamed.

*

The weeks go by. The eyepatch is soon unneeded, and Slaine’s breaths seem to come easier, the lump in his throat now smaller. Not that he is afraid of anyone, teacher or student, beating him up again. Inaho never spoke a word to anyone about what happened in that empty classroom. Slaine could overhear the conversations with Inaho’s endless friends, he could see the worry, the animosity edged in their faces. Slaine knows that the two of them are different, abnormal, he _knows_ that they are used to taking care of the pain themselves, alone, in enduring silence.

So Inaho stays silent, surrounded by his friends, yet constantly throwing glances at him from afar, from the other side, the bright side, and Slaine dreams of Inaho every night—fierce, gentle, desperate, foolish dreams. Sometimes he wakes up, clutching at his pillow, with the tears still clinging on his eyelashes and the screams raw, trapped in his throat.

He used to cry a lot as a child. The crying stopped the day his childhood friend Asseylum, his first love, shyly confessed to him that she is in love with Inaho. And Slaine helplessly understood why she spent all of her free time near him.

Near _Inaho._

Slaine started reading or helping Saazbaum-sensei with school chores during the few minute breaks.

(Saazbaum-sensei is kind and patient with him, unlike Marylcian, Magbaredge and Marito-sensei. Saazbaum regularly chats a bit with him, gives him book recommendations, notes…even a chicken sandwich once, with the excuse that his wife, Orlaine, made more than a man of his age could ever handle. It was delicious.)

*

For the next two years, each time he feels afraid of Cruhteo’s cane and tries to smother the useless feeling, Slaine remembers the day Inaho saw the scarlet and purple truths on his hand.

And he remembers another afternoon, after the punch and the eyepatch, where Inaho found him in the park, sitting on a swing, waiting until it got very, very dark, because only that unfamiliar darkness would drive him home, to everything waiting for him there.

**

Slaine is sitting on the swing, hiding his face behind a book about sea creatures, until he spots that stupid orange bag in the periphery of his vision.  Inaho is approaching. Alone. Without his friends or Asseylum surrounding him, sheltering him, loving him. Alone.

They are finally, finally alike, even if it’s for a few minutes, and the thought makes Slaine want to laugh— a cruel excitement bubbles up his throat. Slaine smiles, coldly, in anticipation of a good fight, his eyes never leaving Inaho. He puts his book away.

 Inaho comes to stand before him, silent.

And Slaine’s heart starts beating fast and painfully, as if it has a purpose again. It surprises him so much— it used to beat for Asseylum the same way, until the emotional numbness became an everyday, much needed ritual for him. He now unleashes his crippled emotions alone, in the darkest, deepest parts of the night. Or with a punch on Inaho’s face—Orange is the only one that has seen his real, disgusting side, after all. Of all animals, the most disgusting ones are bats—as Orange probably implied, that first day they met.

As if Inaho knew.

“What do you want? Orange.”

The backpack Inaho carries triggered that lousy nickname the day they first met— three years ago. It was raining. The first day of school, and Slaine was still bright and full of hope for a better future.

Inaho dropped his keys on the wet asphalt of the street, and Slaine shouted ‘Orange!’ to get the attention of the short boy with the orange backpack.

****

“You there! O-Orange!”

The boy has dark hair. It turns and judges him blankly through the heavily falling rain.

“My name is Kaizuka. Kaizuka Inaho.”

 _Inaho..._ Slaine whispers it once, lips hugging the name, cherishing it—it is crucial that he makes friends in his new school, after all.

So Slaine explains, being very polite.

Inaho picks up his keys. “Thanks. Bat.”

At his puzzled gaze, Inaho points at the keychain hanging from the side of Slaine’s bag. (It was his present for his ninth birthday. Slaine treasures it. His busy father found the time to remember him that day, and Slaine was so happy for it.)

However.

That three-lettered word, it scorches itself deep into Slaine’s soul, marking him, destroying every single one of his illusions.

‘It’s not a bat, can’t you see?’ Slaine’s throat burns to say, then. ‘It’s a black albatross, it’s the most legendary of all birds, Kaizuka-kun! It has a wingspan larger than our heights combined, can you imagine? And it’s disastrous to harm or kill an albatross...people who harmed them were punished from fate, they were severely punished for it.’

He wants to speak. He doesn’t.

And for the first time in his life, he thinks that the plastic, odd-looking keychain might not be an albatross, or the best gift in the world. His father is gone. The pain is constant, and no one is being punished. Slaine has read countless books: bats are darkness, destruction, decay. Bats are liars. Bats are vile. Bats are forebodings of bad, painful things.

All of a sudden, the boy’s irises remind him of blood.

Upset, Slaine takes a step back.

Inaho stares at him silently, as if Slaine is some foreign, strange creature.

Inaho turns and walks away.

 

 

His severe hatred for Inaho is born that very same day; Inaho makes Asseylum laugh. Giggle, pucker her mouth in a lovely, tempting way Slaine has never seen her carry out, through all the years of their shared childhood. From that day on, Asseylum never leaves Inaho’s side.

From that day on, Inaho is the raging force that drives him forward.

****

“What do you want?” Slaine repeats, losing his patience. Dusk is slowly falling on the playground.

“I know why you always change inside a bathroom before gym class.”

Slaine gets up from the swing, angry, despairing. “It’s none of your business. Leave. Now.”

If he knew better, he would have thought that a flicker of hurt crossed Inaho’s emotionless eyes.

Inaho stares at him for an intimate, infinite moment.

A moment where Slaine allows himself to dream. To touch Inaho like he has never done in his life, to cry clinging onto him as if there’s no tomorrow.

 _“Leave.”_   he repeats, voice full of bile and disgust for allowing himself to show weakness to Inaho—to his enemy. His last hope. His solace.

And Inaho does.

The playground is filling with a faint mist. Slaine stands alone, starring as the orange backpack disappears away, away, where Slaine knows, he might never be able to reach.

The hole in his heart is much larger than he ever imagined.

*

One day, it gets too much.

Slaine is locked in the darkness of his room, head hunched, he has trouble breathing from the pain that licks with fire all across his chest and back, the shirt clinging damp onto his split skin, and he can’t anymore, because the darkness is clutching possessively at him, smothering him, and he is terrified, ill with the fear that eventually, Cruhteo will erase him into oblivion.

That thought makes him teary, and he is reminded of the day Inaho left him alone in the dark, and that makes him cry harder, because he doesn’t want to be alone, he doesn’t want to lose Inaho, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life being ignored, unloved, forgotten.

After sobbing a bit more, he lies down on the cold floor, exhausted.

He slips into blissful unconsciousness.

*

Slaine runs away. He disappears, leaving Saazbaum, Asseylum, everyone else behind.

Leaving Inaho behind.

*

_Part Two_

_The Bat and the sun_

_*_

Slaine is nineteen. In his tiny one-room apartment, he wakes up one rainy day and realizes that Inaho and Asseylum and the others must have graduated, by now. Spending the last two years running from towns to cities, from seashores to mountains, Slaine has lived a difficult and very poor life, but a life without fear nonetheless.

*

At twenty-one, Slaine manages to find a new job as a cashier in a small bookstore, gradually raising money in hope of studying to become a marine biologist, someday. The manager—Harklight-san—has a kind and patient smile, the streets fill with people of all ages when the sun is shining, when the few clouds in the sky remind him of white cotton candy and the uphill slopes of the small, seaside town begin to feel like home.

He buys a second-hand bicycle. The freedom in the air as he rushes down the hills is intoxicating.

*

Harklight-san, Barouhcruz-san and Lemrina – his sassy co-worker- are out when the bell attached to the door of the small bookshop jingles.  Slaine turns his head with a smile to welcome the customer.

Kaizuka Inaho steps inside.

Slaine’s eyes open wide. He can’t breathe.

He leans against the counter, waiting until the nausea is finally gone.

Inaho is evidence of a past Slaine longs with his whole soul to overcome, to erase forever—even if his heart reacts with a violent, betraying throb when their eyes meet.

Slaine refuses to let Inaho win yet another fight. It takes extreme effort to keep his voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

Something inside Slaine withers as Inaho simply looks at him and says, “Slaine.”

It’s ironic; two years, he breathed and craved and cried for Inaho, and now…his mouth is dry, his throat is closing, he can barely repress the intense emotions. “Congratulations. You can see. What do you want?” _Come on, ask me where I was, what have I done with my pathetic little life._

Inaho remains calm, always collected and empty, exactly as Slaine remembers him. The blood starts boiling in Slaine’s veins, until Inaho asks for a _book_.

And the book is too scientific and too unimportant, so of course it’s not in the shop’s register, so Inaho asks of Slaine to order the stupid physics book. Slaine places the order, seething silently, and hopes that the book will arrive in a thousand, in a million years—so that Inaho will get tired of waiting and leave Slaine alone in the quiet, unimportant life he is trying to lead.

*

The book arrives in just two days. Inaho is back within the week, pays for it, then heads towards the door, plastic bag in hand. Slaine stares at Kaizuka’s retreating back, and his heart clenches. It’s as if he’s a child again, and he has a premonition of something devastating about to happen; a foreboding of a bad, painful thing. It’s like waiting in that empty house again, opening the door, only to be told by the police that his father is no more. It’s like watching, wide-eyed, as Cruhteo raised that cane for the very first time, it’s like watching Inaho disappear into the mist in that playground, years ago.

Slaine knows, he _knows_ it, if Inaho walks out of the door right this moment, he will lose him forever.

He grits his teeth and bites his lips and digs his nails into his palms to keep himself from crying out Inaho’s name.

Inaho turns around. “I forgot. I need to show you something.”

*

The cherry blossoms have bloomed, so they walk down on paths of white and pink.

They are in the park. Slaine closed the shop for lunch break and decided to give Inaho fifteen minutes of his time. Fifteen minutes, and then Slaine will start again, picking up and tossing away everything Inaho might break in such a little time.

A gentle breeze stirs the branches of the cherry trees. Inaho doesn’t seem bothered by the hotness of the sun, despite his pristine white shirt, his black tie and dark blue pants. Inaho hooks two fingers and drapes his blue jacket over his shoulder, as if he’s in a stroll, and not walking next to a classmate who constantly abhorred him, swore at him, punched him, then dropped out of school, disappearing, five years ago.

His thoughts about Inaho scatter like a flock of startled birds when Slaine hears them, somewhere to his right. A child is running towards his father, shrieking with joy—Slaine turns his head away, away from the contaminating happiness.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

 “Saazbaum-sensei gathered the class in his house for a reunion, a few weeks ago.”

“…Why are you telling me this? I never belonged in that class.”

“Why do you think so?”

Slaine takes a much-needed, calming breath. “Calm Craftman, Inko Amifumi, Rayet Areash, Nina Klein, Okisuke Mikuni, Kisaki Matsuribi, Yutaro Tsumugi, Asseylum Vers Allusia…even Marito-sensei. Magbaredge-sensei. M-Marylcian-sensei.” Slaine stabs Inaho’s chest with his finger. “They all belonged to you.”

Inaho takes a step back, expression forever blank. “Slaine…”

“Get on with it!” he snaps, “I don’t have all day for your childish antics!”

“…Here.”  Inaho hands him a perfectly folded piece of paper with a series of numbers on it. “Saazbaum-sensei said that he’d like to talk to you again.” Inaho pauses. “That’s all.”

Inaho walks away.

Slaine is left too perplexed to think about what exactly that idiot, that attention-grabbing ex-classmate, that Orange nuisance wants from his own petty life.

Alone once again, Slaine turns his face towards the brilliant sun, his shoulders relaxing a bit as the warm light caresses his face.

*

After that day, he tries not to think of Inaho, but those eyes keep haunting him as they always did, keep returning in his loneliest hours, where he curls in his bed and clutches at his pillow, reliving again and again the sound of his name coming from Inaho’s lips.

Slaine wonders if he has lost Inaho forever…one more time.

Slaine calls Saazbaum once, but when the man answers in that deep, unforgettable voice that once used to praise him for his ‘excellent observation’ or his ‘brilliant answer’, Slaine quickly hangs up.

*

Inaho comes again to the small bookshop, asking for physics books again, and Slaine must explain to him _again_ , ‘Your stupid books are too specific, Orange! Go order them elsewhere!” 

Inaho says, “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow? Fifteen minutes.”

After a brief, stunned silence, Slaine nods, suddenly speechless.

*

Inaho returns. They eat lunch together (fried eggs, Inaho insisted). Slaine learns that Inaho is studying physics in a city just half an hour away by train. They don’t talk much. Inaho doesn’t ask any questions.

As the days and months go by and the snow keeps falling down only for the sun to melt it in the spring, fifteen minutes turn into an hour, two hours, five hours, weekends, holidays.

And they walk together each afternoon, through the town’s quiet small roads, through the parks and busy streets, and they always end up at the sea, at night, watching as the harbor lights’ purple reflections flicker on the dark waters, far into the distance.

They sit together on the pier then, talking about everything or nothing, and Slaine starts wishing for a future without fears, a future with no boundaries; with Inaho at his side, there is no place he can’t dream of…there is no place he can’t go.

*

Falling in love again isn’t as painful as he remembered it to be. Not when Inaho’s lips curl at the edges each time Slaine drags him from shop to shop as they try to find the best present for Barouhcrouz’s, Lemrina’s, Harklight’s birthday. Not when Inaho barges into the shop any time he remembers and starts his attempts at chatting with Harklight about his stupid recipes. (Inaho is an amazing cook, a _genius_ in the kitchen, not that Slaine will ever admit that loud.) Not when Inaho devotedly brings him coffee each morning, warm and vanilla-sweet and topped with homemade whipped cream, exactly as he likes it, or when Inaho patiently waits for him to talk about the high school years, the bad years, even if Slaine never manages it. Falling in love isn’t painful at all.

He learns Inaho’s habits, Inaho’s love for eggs and physics and chess. He also knows Inaho’s apartment by heart—Inaho decided to move into the town, for reasons he never explained, despite Slaine’s threats that he wouldn’t allow Inaho to cook for him ever again if he never revealed his reasons (which was a lie, of course, Slaine isn’t an idiot to lose his privileges to such coffee and feasts _and_ to Inaho’s first-class apartment with his huge TV…and Inaho’s company, actually, his legs resting on Inaho’s lap when they are watching movies together on the couch, Inaho’s hand traveling up and down his calf, soothingly, each time Slaine pretends to be asleep…)

The days pass. Another goal achieved, Slaine starts attending his classes and meets a younger girl named Eddelrittuo, who keeps asking him questions about seagulls and once, even roses. They become good friends. The university’s robotic team keeps pressuring him into joining them for constructing a drone that will be used for dolphins’ observation—they call themselves the Stygis Masters, and Slaine never understands why, but they are fun to be around.

So Slaine meets more people, even some of his old classmates when they come to visit Inaho (but not Asseylum, not yet). They always end up at the amusement park with milkshakes and cotton candy in hand, and Slaine thinks that Calm and Inko and the others are good company, after all, though Inko sometimes throws Slaine unfriendly glances, especially when Inaho rests his head on Slaine’s shoulder, or when Inaho takes Slaine’s hand to show him ‘something’—which ‘something’ always ends up being not very important (like foods on sale), but Inaho still persists in dragging Slaine around by the hand.

Inaho, mysteriously, always ends up in the same ferris wheel cabin with him, usually in the last ride of the dark-blue nights. Alone and undisturbed from the world, they spend those thirty minutes hand in hand, gazing in silence at the flickering yellow dots of the city lights, spread in endless patterns at their feet.

Slaine’s hopes for the future are blooming larger and larger each day that goes by.

*

One day, Slaine summons his courage. He deals Saazbaum’s number.

It goes better than he feared. Much, much better. They agree to meet next month, Saazbaum is overjoyed.

When Slaine announces his small triumph to Inaho, they are eating dinner in a tiny, cozy Italian restaurant, a candle flickering between them. Long sleeves showing under his jacket, Inaho rests his cheek on his palm, and then he’s smiling at him in such a sweet, sincerely affectionate way, that Slaine’s breath abandons him completely.

After all this time, Slaine knows Inaho’s smiles, and this is something he has never seen before—not towards Asseylum during their troubled adolescence, or during their endless walks through the town, or the countless times he leaves Inaho’s apartment late at night after they have watched a movie together and Inaho says his ‘Goodnight’ and ‘I’ll call you tomorrow’ and ‘Get home safely, Slaine.’

 _Smile more, smile like this forever,_ Slaine thinks. _I am yours already._ _When will you understand this, you fool?_

*

It happens one sunny day. Inaho is giving him a bicycle ride, and Slaine is standing tall behind a seated, slaving Inaho, arms raised high, his clothes flapping in the wind.

Then a cat jumps into their path, the bicycle trips over and Inaho lands next to Slaine on the grass, forehead first into the dirt, butt up, and his underwear shows through his torn pants.

Fried eggs.

Inaho’s underwear has fried eggs as a pattern.

Slaine knows that Inaho worships and adores eggs—but this… _This is unbelievable_.

Slaine starts chuckling, and then his whole body is shaking with loud, uncontrollable laughter. When Inaho brings their lips together, Slaine is shocked and silenced, but he kisses back with a zeal that surprises even himself, his fingers sliding into Inaho’s hair.

Slaine gasps just before their mouths open, the kiss becoming deep, all-consuming. Inaho’s body weighting him down on the cool grass, the blue sky overhead, the warm sunshine on his flushed cheeks, they are enough to make Slaine’s eyes drift close.

Slaine loses himself into this blissful feeling that is born right that moment, under that endless summer sky.

*

They are lying side by side, hand in hand on the cool grass, Slaine’s lips still tingling from their kisses. Slaine has closed his eyes, but he opens them when Inaho whispers,

“I searched everywhere for you.”

Slaine stills. He turns on his side, locking gazes with Inaho.

“Slaine. It took me six years to trace you. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry.”

It’s like being submerged under icy water. Slaine remembers the dark, empty playground, the swings creaking in the cold wind and the mist.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Slaine knows. He just tries to fool himself and Inaho about what is happening right now between them.

“The day on the playground. No, each afternoon you spent alone in our classroom after school. I shouldn’t have left you on your own.” A pause. “I could always tell.” Inaho says then. “I wanted to understand your objectives, so I analyzed your reactions. Still, I never understood the truth. I thought you got into fights. Which you did, but Cruhteo—“

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A gentle silence ensues.

“Are you hungry?” Inaho says then, “We can cook an omelet when we get home.”

*

Months later, a snowy winter morning where Slaine keeps staring out of Inaho’s kitchen window, holding a cup of warm tea Inaho just made, the sobs rise up Slaine’s throat, clogging it, and his eyes fill with tears.

The cup falls down, breaking into a hundred small pieces. The tea forms a large stain on the wooden floor. Slaine’s tears follow it.

Inaho’s arms are immediately around him in the warmest embrace Slaine has ever known.

*

It’s their second time for tonight, and it’s amazingly good.

The bed is creaking from Slaine’s fast movements, Inaho’s fingers are digging hard into his hips, clenching and unclenching—Slaine knows that Inaho is close, very close.

They have used many positions through the years, and they still change places every night—both enjoy far too many changes when it comes to sex.

Slaine moves faster, throwing his head back and panting open-mouthed into the hot air, clutching blindly at the sheets next to his folded legs—until Inaho sinks into him just right, whispering Slaine’s name, and it all ends with a shout and an exploding, white moment of pleasure tangled with bliss.

It’s a moment he has come to crave; Inaho’s sounds as he comes, Inaho barely pulsing inside of him as Slaine moves a bit, coaxing more shivers out of them, the beads of sweat running down his back, Inaho’s hands moving up and down his marked chest with reverence, as if Slaine is someone who should be loved so much.

When his limbs start feeling like jelly, Inaho notices and- careful and practical as always- separates their bodies. Slaine’s mouth opens slightly at the feeling of Inaho slipping out, and he then sinks into the mattress, sated, half-covering a lying Inaho. Inaho kisses Slaine’s sweaty cheek—he has learned so much through the years, Slaine thinks, they both have— and then they try to catch their breaths.

Eventually, after Inaho’s unnecessary small talk— “Was it okay?”

“You should stop asking questions when you already know the answers, Orange…”

“I want you to feel good, Bat.”

 “I-I know, but you should stop asking me that _every_ _single_ _time_ …!”

 “So you liked it.”

“Yes!”

“Good. Next time it’s your turn to top, don’t forget. I want to try the positions on pages 26 and 35. I promised you last time that we will try page 31 first, so I suggest—”

“When will you stop scheduling our sex life as if you are making your shopping lists, I wonder…”

  _—_ Inaho stands and gets rid of the condom, then hands Slaine a towel to clean himself.

It’s a hot summer night so they lie naked and sweaty in bed, the sheets tangled at their feet.

A few hours ago, they returned from a class reunion, the fourth Slaine has attended since he and Inaho became a couple. They stayed at Inaho’s sister, Yuki. She and her husband are always happy to see him. Yuki’s six year old daughter stubbornly insisted on braiding Slaine’s hair throughout the family dinners—Slaine’s hair reaches just past his ears, so her attempts weren’t that successful. Slaine however promised to take her on a walk through the small town the next time she visits with Yuki. Inaho agreed to accompany them, at the condition that he, too, can hold Slaine’s hand during that walk.

“Saazbaum-sensei gave this to me yesterday.” Inaho fumbles a bit with the nightstand’s drawer, and then gives him…the keychain. The bird…or was it a bat? “The police arrested him a few weeks after you disappeared, so your…guardian never came to pick your things up.”

Slaine ignores the flaring hatred in Inaho’s voice when he indirectly speaks of Cruhteo. He has already told Inaho everything, and he still tries to forget Inaho’s expression when he started speaking of the darker days. He takes the keychain, drops it carelessly on his nightstand. “It was a gift from my father. It’s an albatross.” Slaine whispers. “It’s not a bat. I think so.”

“Even so” Inaho whispers back ,“bats are capable of finding their way even in the absolute darkness. Bats are amazing. You are amazing.”

“Wh-what is that supposed to mean?”

Inaho’s palm is warm on his scarred chest, his head is heavy on his shoulder. “I was too young and confused to understand my feelings just after I met you.”

Inaho is silent, but not for long. “Slaine, I think I fell in love with you during the first month after we met.”

Slaine doesn’t know how to answer that. Something sad bubbles up his chest—a mix of loneliness and sorrow he hasn’t felt for a very long time. But his heart softens, too; he wants to hold Inaho close and kiss him until they are both breathless, and then push Inaho into the sheets for a third time this night perhaps.

Slaine listens to the sounds of the city outside of their apartment, the slow rumble of a car passing by, a dog barking in the distance. His eyelids drift close. He decides he’s too sleepy for that third time—let it wait for tomorrow morning. Or evening, if Inaho wants those two pages…

Instead of an answer, he wraps his sated, heavy limbs around Inaho. “I think I hated you the day I met you…but…I think I started loving you that day, too…” Slaine murmurs then, half-asleep, and the words fall soft on Inaho’s skin. “I think I spent all those years…just waiting…waiting for you to come to me…”

Inaho’s hand comes to rest on his head, stroking his hair. The gentle motions are lulling him to sleep. Slaine understands, after four years together, that Inaho is treating him as if he is the most important thing in the world. At times like this, he allows himself to smile—there might still be times where Slaine prefers to spend a day or two lying in bed, unmoving, for silent hours that keep stretching on and on, and for memories like rabid dogs from his past that keep tearing at him and tormenting him…and at those times, not even Inaho can make him get up.

But those times have become fewer and fewer through the years, less painful, less haunting. And the truth is, Slaine is happy; their days are filled with eggs and chess and silly arguments about movies and physics, and hundreds more interesting things like kisses or Inaho’s ever more frequent smiles, and that’s all that really matters, after all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Quoting Wikipedia: the word albatross is sometimes used metaphorically to mean a psychological burden that feels like a curse.


End file.
